


There was Sunshine

by underneath_the_africanskies



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underneath_the_africanskies/pseuds/underneath_the_africanskies
Summary: An exploration of Revan rediscovering herself and the implications of who she was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Character study on Revan and her feeling unsure about her identity.  
> Also I used one of the default character names from the game because I have no imagination.  
> Also I have no idea if I tagged the right fandom?? It's the KOTOR game world.  
> Enjoy!

She forgets herself, sometimes.

Her past seems strange on her tongue. She doesn’t embellish, yet every word feels like a lie. She can’t picture her friends’ faces, her parents who had died when she was a child, her first smuggling ring. She sometimes forgets her own name, it dances just out of reach and she panics briefly before remembering. Her body is fast, as if she relies on muscle memory rather than the pain of learning from scratch. Lightsabers are familiar; the Force an old friend. They say it is because the Force is with her. To what extent does the Force control her body?

Her mind is slow, slow enough to feel artificial.  

She blames it on the stress, the lack of sleep, the leadership suddenly thrust on her.

What happened before the Endar Spire?

Sometimes she cannot remember; it is all black, and the darkness feels more real to her than her best friend growing up.

What was her name again?

 

* * *

 

 

_There was sunshine, she realised. Warm and bright and simple._

_She blinked, looking over the ocean on whatever planet they were on. Alderaan? Telos? She couldn’t remember._

_There were people around her. A man she knew, far taller than her, stood by her side. She felt a rush of affection at the sight of him, so different to the horror she felt at the thought of him now. He looked different. Here, he kept his hair short, his face whole, but strangest of all: he was smiling at her, saying words she could not hear, as if he were talking to her from underwater._

_The people were cheering. A thought, unbidden, came to mind. Freedom._

_She took the man’s hand, raising it with hers as she addressed the cheering crowd. This moment was hers._

_A familiar emotion._

_Pride._

_Another._

_An unfamiliar one._

_Happiness._

 

She woke with tears on her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

She had to talk to Bastila. Where she had not noticed the Jedi in her dreams before, she could feel it now, very clearly, and it was apparent that Bastila had been the eavesdropper.

She was dreaming about Revan, except Revan had been her.

She was shaking as she splashed water on her face, trying to rid the crawling feeling from her skin.

“I am Shana Starr, smuggler turned Republic scout. I was born on Deralia. My parents… my parents died when I was a child…” She shuddered. The words felt alien, memories not matching up to feelings. Where she once felt deep sorrow at the memory of her parents’ death, she felt cold. Was this simply the moving on that everyone talked about? Being distracted? Or was it something else?

“They died when I was a child,” she repeated firmly to the mirror, tying her hair back from her face.

“I am 38 years old and I am a recent addition to the Jedi Order.” She frowned. That also didn’t sound right. She wrung her hands.  
“Damnit.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mission and Canderous were the only ones in the mess when she walked in. Canderous was in the middle of one of his old war stories.

“… the heat of the fires in the distance so hot we could feel them from thousands of miles away, the sand turned into glass.” he continued as if Shana hadn’t entered the room.

Mission looked up. “Hey! There’s some coffee here!”

“Have you seen Bastila?” she asked, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee.

“Not yet.”

She’d just wait, then. There was no way Bastila wasn’t awake and she couldn’t hide forever.

It was cold in the room. There was a breeze blowing in from ventilation that chilled her in just the wrong ways. She sat in her chair, the metal even colder against her skin.

Warmth, sunshine, light.

She shivered. Why would that stupid dream not leave her?

“Could we turn on the heating? It’s freezing in here,” she complained.

Mission, ever helpful, stood and walked over to the temperature controls on the wall. She tapped a few buttons, and warm air began to fill the room.

“You okay?” Mission asked as she took her seat. Shana felt a pang of guilt for being so crabby with her. “I’m fine, just had another Revan vision,” she said. What the heck. It’s not like she was under any vow to keep it a secret.

“Anything important?” Mission asked.

She sipped her coffee. It was too milky for her liking.

“No.”

Canderous continued his story as if he hadn’t been interrupted. She half listened, too wrapped up in her irritation and fear to be as interested as she normally would. She waited until she had finished her coffee before taking action.

“See you guys later,” she said, and marched to Bastila’s room, knocking.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bastila?” she called.

No answer. She paused. “I’m coming in,” she called, and opened the door to find Bastila sitting on the floor, meditating.

“Hello, Shana,” she said in a calm tone that infuriated her.

“Morning. Have a good night’s sleep?” she asked acidly.

“Of course not,” Bastila replied without opening her eyes.

She stepped into the room. “So. Any ideas on why the Force would want to show us that particular vision?”

“None. Perhaps it’ll become clearer in time.”

“Perhaps.” She folded her arms and waited for Bastila to deign to open her eyes and look at her. When it didn’t happen she entered the room and sat down next to her. She felt Bastila shift.

“You know, my parents used to meditate,” she began.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. They were cantina owners, which resulted in a lot of stress. So, in the evenings before their shifts, we would all meditate before I went to bed.”

She didn’t reply.

It was warmer in Bastila’s room than it was in the mess and they sat in companionable silence.

“Revan felt happy in that vision,” she began, cautious and not entirely sure she wanted to follow where this conversation would invariably lead.

“They did,” Bastila agreed.

“There was once a time when they were saviours,” she continued. “I never understood that until now.”

“It doesn’t matter what Revan was.” Bastila said firmly, ending the discussion.

Another silence.

“Why do I see the visions as if I am Revan?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Bastila replied, “I see it from the Dark Lord’s perspective as well. It is… unnerving.”

She finally opened her eyes. “Do the visions make you feel uncomfortable?”

“To put it mildly,” Shana replied, trying to find the words. “But not because it’s Revan. It just feels more… real than me. That disassociation after. I feel as if I belong more in the visions than as me.” She gestured to the room. “This doesn’t feel real.”

Bastila gave her a long, hard look. “I would say that’s a perfectly normal way to respond. The Force is a great part of nature that can be difficult for the mind to comprehend. Be at peace, and accept it, is all the advice I can give.”

“Do you feel the same?” Shana asked. Bastila smiled thinly in response, closing her eyes again.

“Why do you think I’m doing this?”   

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Malak had revealed the truth to her, she already half knew. Maybe she had known the entire time. Her identity clung to her like a festering wound, stinging and refusing to heal no matter the salve applied.

It was as if a dam had been opened. More memories came, they flowed through her, healing her mind. A name, unbidden, came to her.

 _Alek_. It sounded familiar, warm, like the sunshine from that day. More familiar than Malak.

What had happened to them? For what price had she sacrificed her soul? She couldn’t remember why she had walked into the darkness, dragging her best friend with her. Was this all her fault alone?

 

* * *

 

 

She gritted her teeth as he laughed, his lightsaber technique brutal and strong. Her speed had given her the upper hand, but she knew if his blows found their mark it’d be the end of her.

 _Fool, idiot_. Useless words flashed through her mind as she dodged yet another blow, Malak’s laughter unnerving her. How wonderful it would be to let him kill her, to not have to deal with the burden of living beyond this fight.

She just had to be patient. She had fought him before, and beat him many times. She knew him better than anyone. She just had to wait for the opening that was bound to come.

He stepped forward again, she darted out of reach, retreating several steps, circling him.

The laughter ceased, he was getting annoyed. “Coward!” he snarled, stabbing his lightsaber forward towards her, calling the Force at the same time.

_There._

She stepped out of the way of the lighsaber deftly, standing firm against the wall of energy Malak had called. She enveloped herself in the Force, safe inside as ythe energy engulfed her. She pushed back, hard, and Malak was thrown across the room in the resulting blast, his lightsaber blasted from his hand. She called it from mid-air, and it soared into her hand as Malak crashed against one of the vats lined next to the wall, glass shattering. He fell to the ground with an unpleasant crunch.

She marched towards him as he lay on the floor. She could hear his labored breathing, tinny through the machinery. She stopped in front of him, bearing down over him, her lightsaber drawn.

“It’s over, Alek,” she said quietly.

He let out a huff of laughter. “You’re the only one who still calls me that. Do you even remember? Do you remember your own name before you were Revan?” He shifted, rising to his knees and looking up at her, eyes boring into her own. To her surprise, she saw no hatred.

“You set me on this path. You made me who I am. I followed you, to the ends of the galaxy, and became this.”

She ignored the roiling of her stomach, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise.  
“I may have set you on this path, but it was you who chose to continue it,” she said. Was it for his sake she was saying this, or hers?

He didn’t answer her, coughing. He shifted, and a river of blood spilled from under him. Not a lightsaber wound. She belatedly noticed a massive piece of glass lodged in his stomach.

He spoke.

“I wanted to be the Dark Lord of the Sith, but that role was never mine. Yours, maybe, but never mine. And in the end, as the darkness takes me, I am nothing.”

She didn’t step back as the blood pooled around her feet. Was this punishment? Facing the consequences of her selfishness? Perhaps such things just no longer bothered her.

The chamber fell silent.

“I don’t remember everything,” she said, after a time.

“I remember a victory. We were by the ocean, standing in a crowd. I took your hand. The people were cheering. There was sunshine.”

The room was silent, only the dripping of liquid from the broken vat breaking the silence.

“Goodbye, Alek.”


End file.
